A Mile in Mail's Shoes
by Mello's Favorite Reject
Summary: "Matt, I'm not exaggerating or being a drama queen! I just… wish you understood that." "Yeah, Mello? Well… maybe I wish the same thing." MxM switch roles in a redundant yet modern version of the Prince and the Pauper.
1. Chapter 1

**Title:** A Mile in Mail's Shoes

**Summary:** "Matt, I'm not exaggerating or being a drama queen! I just… wish you understood that." "Yeah, Mello? Well… maybe I wish the same thing." MxM switch roles in a redundant yet modern version of the Prince and the Pauper.

**Disclaimer:** I don't own DN or the plot, but I stake claim to my clever wordplay.

**Author's Note:** What the hell is a Pauper anyways?!

…

* * *

The stench of blood flooded his senses as he held a body close, whispering goodbyes on deaf ears as the remaining life left his companion. He stood up, dropping the preserving corpse and drawing his pistol –a .45 with the cutaway trigger guard. He released a breath of fog into the angry night air and prepared for action as he left the safety of the makeshift barricade.

He knew his men had his back, so he had no fear for his life as he planned his vengeance; he was immortal.

With his free hand, he drew a second gun –a simple but accurate .380. And… just like in the movies, he keened himself onto the metaphorical stage! His guns blazed and the sound of bursting bullets served in place of a droll monologue.

Spectators were at the edge of their seats and actors were playing their roles, clashing like a contemporary version of the some wanton tryst between Montague's and the Capulet's from a Shakespearean play.

The blonde clearly had the lead role; danger and excitement trailed his every move; all eyes were on him… and that attention only grew more concentrated when he let out a cry as a bullet burrowed into the calve of his leg, effectively making him drop to a kneel as he hissed in pain and addressed the laceration.

Thankfully, the sheer number of his enemies lessened and his comrades protected him well, literally taking bullets for him and returning fire until he composed himself and could once again hold his own.

By then, the noise had died down and everyone left alive was patting one another on the back and talking like jocks on a winning football team; they were unfazed at the stench of death and the sight of slaughter. This, to them, was completely natural. No different than children having poptarts for breakfast or watching Looney Tunes on a Saturday morning.

Still, they cheered their fortune and cleared the corpses, ridding the scene of evidence before parting ways.

The blonde ventured to an abandoned garage half a mile away from where the shootout had taken place. From there he retrieved one of the few things that made life worth living… His motorcycle. With a small smile, he placed a gloved hand on the bike, giving the tank and motorhead a loving caress before hiking a leg over and igniting the engine. With the addition of a helmet and a few melodious revs of the engine, he was on his way, taking the scenic route home, feeling positively free as the world whizzed past him and he penetrated the bristling winds.

A ride that should have taken twenty minutes ended up being two hours. Regardless, he arrived and parked his bike before stealing a key from his pocket and using it to access his apartment. He took a deep breath and entered the same way he always did –muddy boots clunking against the hard wood floors; keys being tossed onto the table; leather coat being dropped wherever he saw fit (the coat rack, the chair, the floor. Wherever.); he grabbed a chocolate bar from the coffee table and dropped onto the couch in a lazy manner.

Finally, after a messy day of work, dishing out punishment to dumbasses who couldn't quite keep up with the mob, he was ready to relax. After eating his chocolate bar, his eyes slipped closed and he felt serene. Surely he could fall asleep and wake up without remembering his nightmares; that would be blissful enough for this blonde.

Just as he decided to sleep, it happened. The clicking. The tapping. The beeping. The videogame theme music. The cheering of a particular redhead shouting: "Ultimate PWNage; fuck yeah!"

"Maaaaatt, I'm trying to sleep!" The blonde shouted, burying his face into a couch cushion. His head was throbbing; he just wanted rest, dammit! Still… "Matt, I'm not fuckin' kidding!" He received no response; so, he got to his feet and angrily stomped to where he knew he'd find the source of his pounding headache. "Matt," he chided, standing in the doorway and glaring at his roommate who was kicking ass at some game or another and occasionally relaying instructions to a fellow player via headset.

Noticing the headset, the blonde strode over and yanked it off, screaming: "Matt!" directly into his companion's ear.

…The redhead heard him that time. "Yeah, Mells?" he asked awkwardly, wincing at the ringing sound that began in his ear (courtesy of Mello's rather rude greeting).

"I'm tired of this shit. I'm the one who pays for your addictions; the least you can do is turn it down while I sleep."

"But –"

"Turn it down. Or I'll turn it off –and I won't use the Power button."

"Mello…"

"I'm not kidding, Matt."

The redhead whined indignantly before muttering: "such a drama queen."

"That's it!" Mello shrieked, bypassing Matt to angrily kick the console… several times; stamping and kicking and effectively trashing it. And, as if that wasn't punishment enough for the gamer, he pulled out his .45 and shot the tv screen.

By now the redhead was in tears, fingers loosely cradling a controller and face contorted in pain. "Mello, please. You don't understand…"

"I'm sorry, Matt. I just wanted a little piece and quiet. But you were blaring the damn thing… and you're too lazy to even turn it down."

"No… You're just an insensitive jerk. My game wasn't loud, and I'm not lazy. You're exaggerating; you're being a drama queen."

"Matt, I'm not exaggerating or being a drama queen! I just… wish you understood that –" _I wish you understood that I'm tired; I'm miserable. I just want things to be peaceful when I get home… Then again, how can I expect you to understand? I'm sure you don't even have a clue as to what line of work I'm in. _Mello knew what he needed to say, but he couldn't bring himself to form the words.

Thankfully, Matt spoke up. "Yeah, Mello? Well… maybe I wish the same thing. I want to understand you, but I want you to understand me too." _I wish you understood that my life's not easy either. I have secrets that even you don't know… Secrets I don't want you to know._

…

That night, as Mello lay in bed staring out the small dusty window, a moving star caught his eye. And, though he didn't believe in wishes, the childhood he left behind surfaced in moments of vulnerability, and for just a moment, he closed his eyes and made a wish, hoping with everything in him that he'd go to bed and wake up to understand his best friend and lover.

Once his wish was made, he opened his eyes and the moving ball of light was gone. He shrugged it off and closed his eyes, finally ready for sleep.

…

Morning came and Mello woke up to an unfamiliar voice with a loud, shrill pitch.

"_Mihael Keehl!" _The voice was too peppy to assault someone so early.

Naturally, Mello groaned and swatted the air, keeping his eyes closed and trying desperately to go back to sleep. "Matt, turn that gaming shit off!"

"_Oh! Mr. Keehl! You must wake up! Your day has begun already! At the stroke of twelve, the spell will be broken! But for now, Mail Jeevas has your life… and you have his! He will have no recollection of being his usual self; he has all of your memories and none of his own. And you–you will also have all your own memories and none of his. Odd, yes, but it's how the spell works. You will live as him until the spell wears off, and during that time, you'll learn what it's like to be him."_

…

* * *

**/Yeah, yeah, this idea has been done before, but I wanted to give it a shot. Review! More to come. Seriously. Next chapter is already done. So, again, REVIEW./**


	2. Chapter 2

**Title:** A Mile in Mail's Shoes

**Summary:** "Matt, I'm not exaggerating or being a drama queen! I just… wish you understood that." "Yeah, Mello? Well… maybe I wish the same thing." MxM switch roles in a redundant yet modern version of the Prince and the Pauper.

**Disclaimer:** I don't own DN or the plot, but I stake claim to my clever wordplay.

**Author's Note:** Now… the interesting part. Mello discovers surprising things about Matt. And, yes, Matt has some pretty big secrets that are about to be revealed.

…

* * *

"_Oh! Mr. Keehl! You must wake up! Your day has begun already! At the stroke of twelve, the spell will be broken! But for now, Mail Jeevas has your life… and you have his! He will have no recollection of being his usual self; he has all of your memories and none of his own. And you–you will also have all your own memories and none of his. Odd, yes, but it's how the spell works. You will live as him until the spell wears off, and during that time, you'll learn what it's like to be him."_

Hearing this, Mello opened his eyes to glare at whoever was interrupting his sleep. Unfortunately, once his eyes opened, he could still only see a little. "What the fuck?!" His limited vision settled on a small female with gothic attire, purple hair, and wings.

"_Uh, no. Nononono!" _Her smile was crooked and jagged like a jack o' lantern, but she seemed so peppy... even with her hollowed-out eye sockets. _"Watch what you say to me, Mr. Keehl. I'm what you call a Pixie. We travel all over the world, and at night, we grant the wishes of gamers we've been assigned to! I've been assigned to Mail Jeevas, but he's so selfless, he never wishes for anything… so, I've been keeping an eye on you, hoping the Pixie Council will allow me to grant your selfish wishes instead."_

"I'm not selfish," Mello muttered before realization dawned on him. "Hey, you're existence is impossible. Wishes aren't real. And why the fuck can't I see right?!"

The 'Pixie' pouted (if one could call it a pout). _"Hold your tongue, Mihael. –or I'll remove it; I can do that, y'know. Now, as I was saying…" _She paused, thinking, before continuing. _"Anyway, the Council agreed for me to grant your wish last night since it was something that Mail also wanted; he was just too kind to ask. So, to put it simply, he's out dealing with the Mafia, and you must learn to live his life until the spell is over."_

"But, why…-?"

"_Be careful with your questions, Mr. Keehl. I can only answer five questions throughout the duration of the spell."_

"But I can't see!"

"_So? You can hear, can't you? Call a doctor or something." _She gave a giggle and kicked her feet; she was literally floating._ "By the way, my name's Irony. Call for me if you need anything!" _With that, the Pixie vanished.

Still, Mello tried to keep calm; he could barely make out shapes and shadows with one eye, and the other couldn't see at all. Miraculously, he felt his way around the bedside table and found the phone. He called up his own personal doc before describing vivid hallucinations and poor vision, hoping to God there was a fixable diagnosis.

The response frightened him. "Mello… why are you calling me? You know you've always been blind in one eye, and your vision in the other eye has been deteriorating for a while. As for the hallucinations, you're probably high-aren't you high most of the time anymore?" He didn't wait for a response before adding: "I'm surprised you're not calling about your leg. I mean –" before he finished, the phone went dead; the damn thing wasn't charged.

Mello cursed loudly and tried to process what this meant.

_A)_ He was practically blind… which (he guessed) meant that Matt usually was too.  
_B)_ He was accused of drug use. (Did Matt do drugs? Yes, Mello had caught the redhead with coke once, but it was only that one time…)  
_C)_ There was (supposedly) something wrong with his leg. (Matt's legs were fine, right? Then again, he'd seen the redhead shirtless, but they've yet to get too intimate –never seen each other fully naked before. Maybe Matt had a scar? Or a birthmark? Or something…)

Heaving a sigh, he decided to check his legs. First, he noted the new attire –Matt's old attire. In place of leather was a striped shirt that was two sizes too big and a pair of jeans that were worn and full of holes. (Matt needed new clothes; that's for sure.) Ignoring this fact for now, he pulled up one pant leg to find… nothing. Just a pale leg with a surprisingly firm muscle-to-fat ratio for a lazy gamer with a lithe build. Seeing nothing wrong made him somewhat relieved, though he wasn't too sure why. Then, he pulled up the other pant leg and the little relief he felt was gone in an instant. His other leg –his left one –wasn't there. About six inches above where his knee should have been, there was a silicone-lined fiberglass stump pieced together around a socket where a bionic limb could be attached.

Suddenly, in that moment of realization, Mello understood: Matt wasn't lazy –he was handicapped.

…

* * *

**/Short? Yes, but the purpose of this chapter was to expose Matt's secrets, and I did just that. Review./**


	3. Chapter 3

**Title:** A Mile in Mail's Shoes

**Summary:** "Matt, I'm not exaggerating or being a drama queen! I just… wish you understood that." "Yeah, Mello? Well… maybe I wish the same thing." MxM switch roles in a redundant yet modern version of the Prince and the Pauper.

**Disclaimer:** I don't own DN or the plot or anything refereced, but I stake claim to my clever wordplay. -Irony is MINE.

**Author's Note:** I've only done a little bit of research for this. If anything in this fic is wrong, please overlook it; this is fanfiction. Seriously.

…

* * *

Mello's day in Matt's figurative shoes was just beginning, and he already wanted it to be over. Tears threatened to spill and he felt utterly helpless and angry. Usually, these types of feelings could be dealt with by punching someone or putting a few rounds of lead into an underling's skull, but… the blonde felt too physically inhibited to be violent… and it's not like there was a nearby gun or even an appropriate target.

Today was going to be awful.

Thankfully, the Pixie's words echoed in his head. _'At the stroke of twelve, the spell will be broken.'_ Just like Cinderella. –His poor mind then made a gaming reference to Kingdom Hearts as he thought about playing and escorting the Princess through maze of Heartless.

Oddly, Mello had never played a game. They were boring and rotted brain cells. Still, he decided that if he had to take Matt's role for a day, he could do it. It was only a day, after all –How bad could it be?

…

It took Mello twenty minutes to find where Matt usually hides his bionic limb; another nine minutes to figure out how to attach the roto-molded single axis to the 6bar and lock system; then… he had to learn how the fuck to walk with it –the redhead made it look so easy.

After only a few minutes of the uncomfortable and awkward attempts at walking normally, he gave up, feeling like he'd run a marathon.

Apparently, even with hydraulic enhancements, a transfemoral (starting above the knee, also referred to as an AK) prosthetic requires 80 percent more energy to walk than it does when someone has two whole legs.

In the end, he resigned to sitting in Matt's gaming chair, careful with the movements of the faux knee-joint in the device. He looked at the tv, recalling how he'd shot it the day before and being glad as hell that it was in one piece and working order once more… as if the previous day meant nothing.

With everything –the games, the console, the controller, and the tv –all within reach, he picked a random game and set everything up, deciding to spend the day like he figured his gamer friend did.

But… he didn't count on actually enjoying the game. He didn't count on slipping that headpiece on and giving orders to a n00b (He officially knew what a n00b was!). He didn't count on getting so far into that dungeon… before the phone rang.

He cursed loudly and thought back to where he'd left it. The idea of getting up and fetching it was unappealing, so he simply left it ring. The answering machine picked up and Matt's voice echoed from its speaker… but it didn't sound like Mello remembered; it wasn't the voice of his passive aggressive lover.

"_Mello, you dumbass cunt! I'm working my ass off to pay for your addiction, and… -Pick up the phone already! I know you can hear me. Or are you too lazy to get up and get it?" _Pause_ "Whatever. I'll be home late tonight. I've got shit to do, and... -" _There was a resounding click to signal that he'd hung up.

Mello sighed and thought of the many times he'd called Matt and left similar messages. And now he knew how degrading it felt… to have this disability, and not even be able to tell your best friend and lover.

He thought about all the favors he asked of Matt –favors that had seemed so small at the time, but to Matt, they must've been difficult. He suddenly felt guilt, but he pushed it down.

He concluded that if he and Matt switched places, then Matt would expect to come home to find that Mello had tidied up and sat down to play a game _quietly_(!)… and that's exactly what the blonde decided to do.

With a slight grunt, he forced himself up, feeling the ball joint of the knee lock up before working properly. Then he motivated himself to clean up, picking up the beer bottles and chocolate wrappers, the soda cans and takeout boxes –he threw them away and glared at the dishes that were piled in the kitchen sink… and then he threw those away too, deciding that he could buy more instead of exerting himself by standing in front of the sink for an hour. Then laundry… He saw the massive piles of unwashed clothes and grimaced.

He decided then and there that chores weren't that important. He'd do them later.

…

Later came, and so did Matt. Mello instantly recognized the heavy footsteps from the clunky boots; he heard the key scrape the lock; and he knew that Matt would come in, drop the keys on the table, throw his coat wherever, and try to rest on the sofa.

But Mello didn't bother going to greet Matt. He didn't bother to turn the game's volume down like he should have. Instead, he continued to play… and an odd thought in the back of his mind told him why.

-If the game is loud…Matt will come to turn it down. If that happens, there will be a fight. If they fight… there's less of a chance at physical intimacy… which Mello now understood was a big deal since it would mean exposing the missing limb that he'd worked so hard to hide.

…And Matt did come in –all leather and sex and dried blood. And he did yell and fight with Mello, saying many things that the blonde had said before… under different circumstances. And Mello was rendered speechless; his chest tightened but he slowly drew his focus back to the game and tried not to wonder what Matt had been doing all day.

…

As Mello lay in bed, prosthetic removed and phone charging on the table next to the bed, he tried to get comfortable, but this proved impossible. The bed was old and the springs were poking and prodding in the worst ways.

Thankfully, he didn't have to dwell on the matter too long. In a flurry of blue glitter and the scent of cinnamon, that purple-haired Pixie was back. She let off a giggle and quickly interrogated: _"So, Mihael, do you see? Things are-"_

"It sucks like hell, Irony," Mello grumbled despairingly. "Matt's being a…-"

"_An inconsiderate jerk? Yes, just like you Mr. Keehl! And you're facing all the struggles that he deals with on a daily basis… Now, make a wish. It's almost midnight."_

Mello thought for a fraction of a second before nodding: "Any wish?"

"_Any wish."_

"Alright, I…-"

"_But perhaps I should tell you what Mail always wished for… every night."_

"Irony, you said he didn't make wishes because he was so selfless."

The Pixie made a vague hand gesture before amending: _"I did say that, but what I meant was… Mail's selfless to the point where he never wishes for himself. But… he wished for you –your safety. He wished for you to come home safely.-Now, you only get one wish a night, so… how will you use it?"_

Mello was given an option here, and the choices weren't easy. Wish for Matt's continued safety as he dealt with mobs and gangs and gunfights… or wish for his impairments to be fixed.

Mello didn't even believe in wishes until this morning, and now it seemed unavoidable to make one.

"_The clock is ticking. Wish by midnight, or the wish goes to waste."_

"I want…-?"

…

* * *

**Another chapter. More coming soon. Review.**


	4. Chapter 4

**Title:** A Mile in Mail's Shoes

**Summary:** "Matt, I'm not exaggerating or being a drama queen! I just… wish you understood that." "Yeah, Mello? Well… maybe I wish the same thing." MxM switch roles in a redundant yet modern version of the Prince and the Pauper.

**Disclaimer:** I don't own DN or the plot or anything referenced, but I stake claim to Irony the Pixie and my clever wordplay.

**Author's Note:** Short chappie. Read and Review.

…

* * *

Mello made his wish and went to bed, knowing that the Pixie would grant it overnight and he'd get results in the morning (-either that, or he'd wake up to find all that this had been a really fucked up, stress-induced dream).

The morning came and with it sounded something the blonde had yet to identify as familiar –Matt's yelling. Yes, five in the morning, and Matt's voice echoed off the walls like the roar of fuckin' Mufasa.

Mello groaned as he forced himself up, eyes still unwilling to open as he groped for the prosthetic attachment. With minor difficulty, he slipped it in the socket and locked it in place. Getting up, he trudged over to the dresser to retrieve clean clothes, stripping and discarding his shirt and pants along the way. Reaching the dresser, he pulled open the drawers and found everything surprisingly organized; even with his poor vision, he could easily make out the striped shirts and faded jeans.

The shirt came on with ease, but pulling a pair of pants on with an artificial foot –complete with a faux skin sleeve –proved to be more arduous than he originally anticipated. Still, he managed to get himself dressed and finally left the room, not entirely sure what to expect.

Exiting the room, he was greeted with the sight of an irritated redhead, covered in ash and grime as he paced irritably -soot from his boots smearing into the carpet.

"Matt?" Mello quipped with a quirked brow as he stepped out into the living room, taking cautious steps as he approached the other.

Matt turned a hard glare on his roommate before hissing: "What now, dumbass?"

It took a surprising amount of willpower not to flinch; Mello just wasn't used to his Matt being so assertive and… well, a jackass. Still, he'd try to converse. "I just… I'm surprised you're still here. Aren't you usually gone by now?" He squinted his eyes to see a clock, but his vision just didn't allow him to read the numbers. He inwardly sighed but gave no outward gest.

The redhead threw a wild articulation, indicating his messy hair, sooty face and hands, and singed clothes. "I _was _gone, you idiot. The bike didn't start right, and by the time I figured out why, the bomb went off –luckily it was poorly made and didn't have enough nitroglycerine to do any real damage, but… it certainly stopped me from going out just yet. "

Mello continued to squint his eyes as he looked Matt over, seeing slight scorch marks here and there. "Well, if you're going to be home, I think we should talk."

"There's nothing to talk about."

"Matt… there's plenty to talk about. We both have secrets, and...-"

"Shut it, Mello. I'm serious. Just go play your game or something."

Mello let out a feral growl as frustration took over. "I know what you do for a living, you jackass! And if you don't want my metal foot up your tight ass, then I suggest you sit the fuck down and listen to what I have to say!"

…

* * *

**/First off, to clear up possible confusion. Mello's wish was obviously for Matt's safety, which is why he didn't get severely injured by the vaguely mentioned explosive. And... you might be wondering why the spell isn't over, right? Well, I'll have Irony explain that in the next chappie, so hold your horses. -Now, then, was the chappie short? Yes, but I'll get another chapter up either tonight or tomorrow. (Probably tomorrow.) Review. Seriously, motivate me. *smile*/**


	5. Chapter 5

**Title:** A Mile in Mail's Shoes

**Summary:** "Matt, I'm not exaggerating or being a drama queen! I just… wish you understood that." "Yeah, Mello? Well… maybe I wish the same thing." MxM switch roles in a redundant yet modern version of the Prince and the Pauper.

**Disclaimer:** I don't own DN or the plot or anything referenced, but I stake claim to Irony and my clever wordplay.

**Author's Note:** Lame chapter, but I hope you find it tolerable. (I'm sure we've all read worse!)

…

* * *

"I know what you do for a living, you jackass! And if you don't want my metal foot up your tight ass, then I suggest you sit the fuck down and listen to what I have to say!"

Much to the angry blonde's surprise, the redhead obliged, taking a seat and taking on an expression of apathy. "How long have you known?" he deadpanned, emerald eyes appearing a shade or two darker than usual.

"I know you, Matt," Mello said simply. "I know that you get pissed off easily, but… there are times you have a good reason to be pissed. You think I'm a lazy son of a bitch who doesn't do anything, and you have every right to assume, but… you're an ass, Matt. You don't take time to consider that I might be dealing with shit too."

The redhead was quiet for a moment before giving repose. "You didn't answer my question."

"I just know, alright? Doesn't matter how I know, or for how long I've known that you're a hired gunman for the mob. It doesn't fuckin' matter. But, what _does_ matter, is that you're an insensitive jackass, and my life sucks like hell."

"So? Stop bitching about it and fix it. Do I have to do everything by myself, Blondie?"

Mello grit his teeth as he tried to keep composed, but the control he had over his anger was slipping. He wanted so badly to either kick the redhead's ass or reveal his handicap to send the fucker on one hell of a guilt trip… but… a strange sense of pride made him hold his tongue. Pride was something Mello didn't think his Matt had, but… here he was, in an argument he _could_ win… but didn't' need to. Pride kept his head held high even as he backed down from the squabble. He turned away and easily located a handheld he'd seen his Matt play so many times before. He took a seat in an easy chair, turned the game on, and tried to relax.

Seconds ticked by and Matt got up to approach Mello. He stared down at the blonde for a moment before running his fingers through blonde strands and inevitably speaking. "I know I'm not a great roommate or boyfriend. We don't do any of that lovey-dovey shit you probably want to do, and I don't have time to get to know you and sit around and share secrets… That's not who I am, Mells. If I'm an ass, oh well. You can leave if you want; I'm not stopping you. But…" he heaved a sigh and lowered his voice, continuing. "But… I do appreciate coming home to see you here. Even if you don't really do anything." He retracted his hand and left the room, presumably heading to the bathroom.

Alone, Mello could only sit there, speechless. He had so many emotions, he didn't know how to process them, so… for once, he remained quiet. He adjusted the volume on his game and cleared a stage… Just as he was about to start another level, he closed his eyes and called for Irony.

Unsurprisingly, blue glitter rained like confetti and the scent of cinnamon was once again present, as was the odd Pixie with purple hair, no eyes, and a carved mouth. Her wings gave a light flutter and she shrieked with excitement. _"Mr. Keehl! Problems with your wish? You still have five questions! And… how are you fairing… against yourself?"_

Mello sighed before glaring harshly at the mystical female. "Yes, there's a problem. I thought you said this spell-or-whatever would be broken at midnight. Why are things still fucked up?"

The answer came immediately. _"I said the spell would end at the stroke of twelve. That doesn't have to mean midnight. And…I the spell can last a number of days. When it's over all depends on you. When you fully understand him, then…-"_

"Alright I got it. Then, can't you give me his memories or something? Then I'd understand him easier. I mean, if he has my memories, and I also have my memories, then… aside from me having his disabilities and him retaining his name, there is no Matt anymore."

"_I cannot give you his memories. That's a severe violation of privacy. Right now, he has your memories, yes, but when this is all over, he won't remember any of it… so it's not like he's invading personal territory."_

"Alright, then… what am I supposed to do? I can't keep living like this. I can hardly see; walking is a bitch; and I'm starting to actually like gaming. That's not something I want."

"_You're taking the fun out of this. I'm tempted to turn your mouth into a toad so it can hop right off your face. That would be funny!" _She giggled manically, finding humor where the blonde couldn't.

Mello sighed. "I just want things back to normal. I promise I'll treat Matt better."

"_It's not as simple as that. You two must understand each other before the spell can be broken. And it's entirely up to you. You're learning his life while he's mindlessly living yours. The advantage here, is that you know what he does and how he thinks. In a way, you need to reason with yourself. –Now, you started with five questions. I answered three. Are you going to use your last two questions now or later?"_

"…Later."

And the Pixie was gone.

…

When Matt got out of the shower, he was still dripping wet, having only a towel around his waist. He sat back on the couch and claimed a chocolate bar from the coffee table. Mello looked up from his game and stared, watching the water roll down those lean muscles and seeing those perfect teeth snap into the sweet treat. Pausing his handheld, all he could think was that Matt looked completely fuckable right then and there.

…But there was the matter of his prosthetic.

When Mello had learned about the prosthetic, he felt, pain, anger, shame, and guilt. He hated the feeling and almost wished he didn't know… but, he couldn't take back the wish he'd made. And… in some ways, he was glad to have the chance to know more about the person he referred to as a part-time lover… even though they'd never been intimate.

The thought nagged at him –the thought of having known each other for years and still having known practically nothing about one another.

Well, that was about to change. And Mello could only _wish_ for a good outcome.

"I wanna talk to you," Mello said casually. "But… I'm sure words will only get in the way, so keep your damn mouth shut and look at me." On his feet once more, he placed his hands on his hips before sliding them across the denim to unbutton and unzip his pants.

Matt quirked a brow but said nothing, erecting his posture and looking on with a curious gaze.

Mello closed his eyes and slowly began to pull his pants down. As he did so, he spoke in a calm, even tone. "I think I get it, Matt. Our problem, why we fight and still don't leave one another. There's a sense of loyalty between us. Symbiosis, if you will. And, while one of us is emotionally blind and cripple, the other is physically." With those words, the bionic limb was fully exposed.

No more secrets. Only consequences.

…

* * *

**/I'll start the next chapter later. One or two chappies left. Review./**


	6. Chapter 6

**Title:** A Mile in Mail's Shoes

**Summary:** "Matt, I'm not exaggerating or being a drama queen! I just… wish you understood that." "Yeah, Mello? Well… maybe I wish the same thing." MxM switch roles in a redundant yet modern version of the Prince and the Pauper.

**Disclaimer:** I don't own DN or the plot, but I stake claim to my clever wordplay.

**Author's Note: **Oi, this fic's almost complete. No Irony in this chappie. -Read and Review.

…

* * *

Mello waited patiently for a reaction that didn't come. He expected Matt to become a swirling vortex of emotions and to react accordingly, but… nothing of the sort occurred.

Matt simply looked at the artificial limb for a long moment before getting up and exiting the room, heading for the kitchen. He came back with a pair of goggles dangling from his hand, the strap caught between his fingers and the lenses catching the light like ornamental bulbs. He handed the eye apparel to the blonde before turning away. "I found them earlier. Thought you might want them." Without sparing a second glance, he walked out of the room, leaving Mello alone and frustrated.

Still, the blonde sighed and gave a half-hearted glare at the goggles before sitting down and grabbing for a pack of cigarettes on a nearby stand. Without thinking, he retrieved a cancer stick, placed it in his mouth and lit up; almost instantly, he felt the rush of nicotine in his system; the feeling was bliss and he almost wanted to take back the crude comments he always made about the redhead's smoking addiction.

After several puffs on the cigarette, he sat back and reclined the chair, watching the smoke curl into the air as it diffused.

The problem that had him on edge, was that he was starting to understand Matt, but… he couldn't get Matt to understand him. There seemed to be no proper communication between the two, and something had to be done.

Finishing and snubbing the cherry from his cigarette, he declined his chair and got up, heading towards the kitchen with the assumption Matt would be there.

…Because the clock was ticking, and though it was still early, he wanted the damn spell to be over by midnight. And for that to happen, there had to be some emotional nakedness between the two.

Upon entering the kitchen, Mello experimentally slipped the goggles on, deciding that if he was going to do this, he'd do it as Matt-like as possible. The moment the lenses shielded his eyes, the world was bathed in orange, and… surprisingly (or not), his vision improved, if only a little; the blurred shapes and shadows now had depth and definition; he could read the numbers on the clock, though not much else. It was a definite improvement.

He found Matt sitting in a simple wooden chair at the meager kitchen table, eyes close and beer at hand. He was still in nothing but a towel; his hair was damp and uncombed, and under different circumstances, the blonde would make a move to entice the other –not that the gesture would have received much of a response.

He walked over to Matt, slowly growing accustomed to the leg impairment. He pulled up a chair and sat next to the redhead. "Matt," he said calmly, reaching to unhook the 6bar and detach the prosthetic.

Green eyes opened but refused to look directly at the other. "Yeah?"

"It's not that bad. I promise. It's not like a disease."

"I don't wanna talk about this."

"Why not?"

No response was given; they sat in silence for a small eternity before one of them spoke again.

"Matt… I love you. Even though you're an ass. –You're _my_ ass. My big, fat, insensitive ass that kills people for a living. –And I love you."

And this made the redhead grin. "Yeah… I am one awesome ass, aren't I?" He paused, grin fading and eyes closing. "Mells, I care about you too. I really do. But… I can't…-"

"Yes you can. Matt, if _I _can handle this shit, so can you."

"I'll try, Mells, but I can't make any promises."

"I'm not asking for a promise. Now, hold my leg, help me hop to the nearest bed, and let's have hot, kinky sex. I'll bottom for you."

"…Seriously?"

"Seriously," Mello affirmed and Matt laughed. And for a moment, it was like nothing was wrong. One wasn't a murderer and the other wasn't physically impaired –there was more to them than that. And the reality of this understanding brought the two closer together.

...

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**/I know what you're thinking: "So, did they have sex? Are things okay between them? What now?" Well, this is RATED T, so I'm not writing a lemon, but the perverted readers out there can use their imaginations, right? And… One chapter left after this, so stay tuned and thank you for your support –Review./**


	7. Chapter 7

**Title:** A Mile in Mail's Shoes

**Summary:** "Matt, I'm not exaggerating or being a drama queen! I just… wish you understood that." "Yeah, Mello? Well… maybe I wish the same thing." MxM switch roles in a redundant yet modern version of the Prince and the Pauper.

**Disclaimer:** I don't own DN or the plot, but I stake claim to Irony and my clever wordplay.

**Author's Note: **Last chapter. I'm tired, so I might go back and re-write this later. The ending is horrible! But here it is.

…

* * *

Hours passed –a night of passion unfolded, ending with sweaty limbs tangled in sullied sheets. The clock ticked away time like both a hideous reminder and a soothing lullaby. The contradictive beats had the blonde nearly asleep; the redhead was already out cold.

Unfortunately, as the clock displayed the time in a prominent neon –11:56 PM –Mello felt his nose assaulted by the scent of cinnamon; the spice drew him from his haze and his eyes opened to meet blackened sockets and a jagged mouth on a sweet, childish face. He jerked from his stupor and pulled orange lenses over his eyes to aide his vision. "What now, Irony?" he queried in a hushed tone, trying to keep from waking his official lover.

The purple-haired Pixie seemed to hover, kicking her feet up and turning her body horizontal to simulate lying on air. _"Mr. Keehl, this has been such fun, but… your time is almost up. You have two questions –and… one more wish. I suggest you use them while you can."_

Mello thought for a moment before nodding. He propped himself up on his elbows and his face contorted a serious countenance. "Alright, Irony… I've gotta know: How did Matt lose his leg? And _don't_ leave any details out."

Irony pretended to get more comfortable on her imaginary bed before giving a mock-salute. _"Mail lost his leg four years ago. Car accident. –During that time you two were fighting. He took a drive, planning to be gone for a few hours and come back, but… he forgot his goggles; he couldn't see very well. He ran headfirst into an SUV. His car was totaled, and the front of the car was –well, let's just say that the engine greeted Mail's legs rather harshly. As you can probably guess, one of his legs was injured, but the other was completely crushed. When the medics got him to the hospital-"_

Noticing the clock now said 11:59 PM, Mello interrupted. "Alright, I've got the gist. One more question… Then my wish."

"_What's your question?"_

"Does Matt –_MY Matt_ –love me?"

And Irony smiled that crooked smile; she reached a clawed finger to twirl a strand of hair in a flirtatious manner. _"Mail has always loved you. Always."_

Only seconds were left 'til midnight, and Mello made his wish. "Alright, Irony… I wish –"

...

Mello was glad to be back to his usual self. Leather soaked his body and his .45 was neatly concealed. It felt good to walk a bit steadier and see a lot clearer. The world was his, and he was all too happy as he slid that key into the lock and allowed himself into his and Matt's home, two well-muscled men trailing behind carrying a large box wrapped in colorful paper.

Walking in, Mello quickly found the gamer sitting in a chair, cigarette hanging lazily from his lips as he tapped at a handheld. As per usual, the keys were dropped onto the table, but when he removed his jacket, he hung it on the coat rack. Then he took of his shoes and padded over to the redhead, leaning over him and pressing his lips into Matt's crown. The kiss was quiet and friendly, so as not to intimidate or draw an awkward reaction. Finally, he walked away, gesturing for the cronies to follow.

Once the box was placed where Mello wanted, he dismissed the two men and took a seat, deciding to play the waiting game.

As expected, Matt walked in after only a few short minutes, cigarette abandoned and handheld gripped between his fingers. "Mells? I'm sorry for –"

At that moment, the blonde saw fit to interrupt, smiling as he did so. "Don't apologize. I just wanted to show you my appreciation for everything you do. You're here for me when I get home from a hard day at work, and you don't bitch about my work schedule. You tidy up when you can, and you keep me from being lonely. I couldn't ask for a better boyfriend."

Matt instantly dropped his handheld; it fell to the floor unceremoniously. His mouth moved but couldn't form words. In the end, his lips tightened into a thin line before drooping into a frown. "Is… something wrong? You're acting… different. And you've never so bluntly called me your boyfriend…"

Mello smiled calmly, eyes lighting up. "I've done some thinking, and… I know I'm an ass sometimes, but that's alright. You love me, and I'm gonna fix shit between us. Now," he paused long enough to point to the large package. "Now, come open this. I think it's for you." He stepped back and waited patiently.

Hesitantly, Matt came forth, getting closer and closer to the box. "It's not gonna blow up or something, is it?"

And Mello laughed, shaking his head and urging the redhead on.

Slowly, Matt pinched the colorful paper and began to peel it away; when he was able to see the box beneath, his excitement grew and his hands attacked the paper viciously, ridding the box of its cover. "You got me a new tv?!"

"Yeah, after what I did to your old one, I owed you."

"Mells…"

"Matty…"

The two shared brief eye contact before Matt literally hugged the box, rubbing his cheek against the cardboard before deciding to open it. "Can I set everything up and play? Please, Mells?"

Mello nodded and took a seat, watching silently as Matt shifted his weight awkwardly and set to work at removing the tv from the box and setting it up. He plugged it in and hooked up his console before sitting next to the blonde, controller in hand and smile in place. After a moment, he sighed, looking confused. "Something wrong, Matt?"

The redhead shrugged, shifting uncomfortably and trying to be inconspicuous with the glance he gave his artificial limb. "It's nothing, Mello. I just missed you, I guess." He cautiously leaned against Mello, bypassed the title screen and began to play.

Mello watched quietly, paying more attention to the gamer than the game itself.

Sure, Matt had secrets, and Mello wanted to know them all, but… he knew that Matt would reveal them when he was ready. And for Matt, Mello would wait. And, in the meantime, Mello would put effort into being considerate… For the love of an impaired gamer, he could do it –and he would.

Because –although the goal was to learn about Matt, he learned more about himself too. All thanks to Irony and the chance to walk… a mile in Mail's shoes.

…

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**/*cringe* I know, it's a cheesy way to end it! Oh wellz; it's done. Hope ya liked it Review!/**


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